Grace made it back to the ballroom, but not to their table.
She found Maya near the champagne station, and they danced together on the edge of the crowd. Not a real dance, just standing close enough that they looked like they were part of the celebration. Grace's eyes kept track of Ethan without her meaning to. She watched him at the table with Charlotte. Watched Charlotte touch his arm while she talked. Watched the way his face changed when he looked at her.
The song ended. Grace and Maya moved back to their seats.
Charlotte was sitting in Grace's chair now. She'd tilted it toward Ethan's, creating the illusion of intimacy. Catherine sat on Charlotte's other side, practically glowing. The entire table was oriented around Charlotte like she was the sun and everyone else was just planets in her orbit.
Grace sat down in the only available seat, the one furthest from Ethan.
"You left so suddenly," Charlotte was saying to Ethan, her voice low enough that only those close could hear. "I thought maybe I'd done something wrong. I thought maybe you couldn't stand to see me leave."
"Charlotte—" Ethan started.
"I need to show you something," she interrupted. "Something I should have shown you six months ago. Would you come to the garden with me? Just for a moment? For old times' sake?"
Grace's entire body went still.
Ethan hesitated. She could see him do it. Could see the war happening inside him. His eyes moved from Charlotte to Grace and back again. He was actually weighing the choice between his wife and his first love.
Catherine leaned toward him. "Don't be rude, Ethan. Charlotte has come all this way."
The words were gentle, but they were a push. A clear message about what mattered. Charlotte mattered. Charlotte's comfort mattered. His wife sitting at the same table didn't matter nearly as much.
Ethan stood.
"I'll be right back," he told Grace. Not as a promise. Just as information. Like he was leaving her at a restaurant and going to the restroom.
He didn't wait for her response.
Grace watched him follow Charlotte toward the garden doors. Watched them disappear through the glass. Watched the moment her marriage became something that happened while someone else wasn't looking.
The silence at the table was unbearable.
Victoria appeared at her side with another glass of champagne. Grace hadn't even seen her approach.
"You knew you were temporary, right?" Victoria said quietly. The words came out soft, almost kind, which made them crueler. "Everyone knew. It was obvious from the beginning. You were just the backup plan. The emergency bride. Ethan was always going to take Charlotte back the moment she asked."
Grace didn't respond. What was there to say? Victoria was right. Everyone had known. Everyone except Grace.
"The smart thing would be to leave," Victoria continued. "Take the experience, take whatever you got out of this arrangement, and move on. Save yourself the embarrassment of being cast aside in front of everyone you know."
Grace set down her champagne carefully.
"Excuse me," she said, and stood.
She meant to go to the restroom. She meant to splash water on her face and compose herself and figure out what to do next. But the route to the bathroom took her past the garden doors.
She didn't mean to stop.
She didn't mean to look through the glass.
But she did.
Ethan and Charlotte stood near the stone fountain, the same one Grace had stood at only minutes before. Charlotte was crying. Not ugly crying. The kind of beautiful crying that looked artistic, like her tears were part of her design. She had her hand on Ethan's chest, and he had his hands on her arms, holding her steady.
His face was soft.
That was the detail that broke something inside Grace. Not anger or heartbreak, but a clear, cold recognition. His face was soft in a way it had never been when he looked at her. Tender. Concerned. Like Charlotte was something precious that needed protection.
Grace couldn't hear what they were saying, but she could read Charlotte's lips well enough to understand the first words.
"I made a terrible mistake."
Charlotte's hand moved up to Ethan's face. Her thumb traced his cheekbone. She was looking at him like he was the most important thing in the world. And Ethan was letting her.
Grace's hands pressed against the glass.
"Leaving you was the biggest mistake I've ever made," Charlotte continued, and now Grace could hear her voice clearly through the doors. "These six months without you were torture. I realized that nothing else matters. Not my art. Not Paris. Not any of it. Only you. Only us."
Ethan's hands tightened on her arms. "Charlotte—"
"I know things are complicated," Charlotte said quickly, like she was afraid he'd speak, afraid he'd say something that didn't match her narrative. "I know you married her. But Ethan, that's not real. Everyone knows that's not real. It's a business arrangement. It's to make your grandmother happy. But we both know where your heart is. We both know it's with me."
Grace watched her husband's face. Watched him process Charlotte's words. Watched him struggle with something inside himself.
"Can you forgive me?" Charlotte asked. "Can you forgive me for leaving? For making you doubt? For wasting these months when we could have been together?"
The silence stretched between them.
Grace held her breath.
Ethan didn't speak right away. He was looking at Charlotte like he was trying to read something that wasn't written down. Like he was searching for proof of something he desperately wanted to believe.
"I don't know," he finally said.
It wasn't a yes. But it wasn't a no either.
"Things are complicated," he continued. "Grace is my wife. She's—"
"She's temporary," Charlotte interrupted. "She knows that. Everyone knows that. The contract you made with her is just until your grandmother passes. And then what? Then she takes the money and leaves? Is that what you want? To spend the next however many months pretending to be happy with someone you don't love?"
Grace's chest tightened.
"I do care about Grace," Ethan said quietly.
"You care about her the way you care about people who work for you," Charlotte said. "You care about her because she's convenient. Because she's there. But you don't love her. Not the way you love me. Not the way you've ever loved me."
Ethan pulled his hands away from her.
Charlotte stepped back, and her expression shifted. The vulnerability disappeared. The calculation returned.
"Think about it," she said softly. "Think about what you really want. Because I'm not going anywhere this time. I'm done running. And I think you're done pretending."
She walked back toward the ballroom.
Ethan stayed by the fountain.
He pulled out his phone and stared at the screen for a long moment. Grace couldn't see what he was looking at. But she watched his jaw tighten. Watched him put the phone away without making a call. Watched him stand alone in the garden with his hands in his pockets, looking like someone who'd just lost something he didn't know he still wanted.
Grace turned away from the glass doors before he could look up and see her watching.
She walked quickly toward the bathroom. She needed to be somewhere else. Needed to not be in this moment anymore. Needed to process what she'd just heard without having to pretend she hadn't heard it.
The bathroom was empty except for a woman fixing her makeup in the mirror. Grace locked herself in a stall and sat on the closed toilet and tried to breathe normally.
Charlotte was right about one thing.
The contract did expire when Grandmother Clara passed. And when it did, Grace would be free. She'd have the million dollars and her independence and her life back. She could take the money and build the empire she'd always wanted. She could finally matter.
But she'd also be leaving Ethan to Charlotte.
And she'd spend the rest of her life wondering if she should have fought harder. Wondered if she should have confronted him. Wondered if there was any version of this where he chose her.
Grace pulled out her phone and looked at the messages Maya had sent her earlier.
Your father wants to meet tomorrow. He's willing to discuss the company position. And Grace? He said he's sorry. That's big for him.
Grace stared at those words. At the possibility of something different. At the chance to build something that was hers.
She could leave tonight.
She could tell Ethan the marriage was over. She could take her emerald dress and her reclaimed sense of self and walk out of his life before Charlotte could push her any further into the margins.
She could choose herself.
But before she could act on that thought, her phone buzzed.
A text from an unknown number appeared on her screen: Don't do anything yet. I'm watching this situation too. And there's something about Charlotte's story that doesn't add up. Give me forty-eight hours before you make any decisions.
Grace stared at the message.
Who was sending her these texts? Who was paying attention to her marriage closely enough to know what was happening?
Her phone buzzed again. Another message from the same number: Charlotte came back to New York six weeks ago. Not for love. For money. Check her bank records. Check what she withdrew from her family's accounts before she left for Paris. And check who she's been contacting since she returned. The truth will change everything.